Ricky Ricardo Never Was Fair
by SilkenBone922
Summary: Rory/Marty, au to "Merry Fisticuffs".-she says she wouldn’t know where to go. Things ended with Logan, Stars Hollow is too far and no, she’d rather not see Paris right now, thank you very much.


**ricky ricardo never was fair (lucy's side of the story)**

**gilmore girls**, rory/marty (implied rory/logan and lucy/marty), pg, 1399 words, _she says she wouldn't know where to go. Things ended with Logan, Stars Hollow is too far and no, she'd rather not see Paris right now, thank you very much._

notes: for ava_leigh_fitz, thank you to martyr4mylove4u for the beta.

She's pulling her coat tighter around her frame, small hand tucked into the collar, palm pressed to the flush of her neck. She's looking down at the ground when he finds her.

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, hesitant as he leans against the opposite wall and the words dry up in his mouth-

"Rory?"

She doesn't look up.

"I'm sorry."

It's too soft, too low for her to have heard it but he catches a flash of blue beneath the wet dark lashes and his mouth turns up at the corners.

"It's not your fault," she murmurs, begrudgingly, "Logan was being-"

He cuts her off- he still isn't comfortable talking to her about that boyfriend.

"I didn't just mean tonight. I- I should never have asked you to do that. It wasn't fair. But-"

She looks him straight in the eye now, wide baby blues all damp and endearing.

"I was in love with Lucy," he ends, somewhat lamely, "I didn't want to ruin things because I was in love and you- I was just scared of being around you. Again."

She nibbles her lower lip, drawing it back and shivers lightly. She's biting back a question- he can tell. The apple of her throat slides up and then down, she swallows the "why".

Rory pulls her purse closer to her body, trying to not look at the watch.

"Want me to walk you home?"

She doesn't answer. Glances down at her shoes.

He turns, turns to move but-

"Won't Lucy mind?"

His shoulder pulls back. He can't even help how quickly it happens but his eyes are back.

"We broke up." His shoulders back against the wall, sliding up.

It's raining now. The air is damp and spicy and cold. She's still shivering, apologies dying on her parted mouth and he asks again if he can take her home.

She says she wouldn't know where to go. Things ended with Logan, Stars Hollow is too far and no, she'd rather _not_ see Paris right now, thank you very much.

---

His fingers shake a little when he turns the key in the door.

She shuffles her feet on the door mat, stepping in silently but she makes a beeline for the couch as always and it slips into a sort of familiar routine that he didn't dare to expect.

"Coffee?" His voice is hoarse, thick. Too much rain, too much spice, too much of _her_.

She nods, hair shaking rain onto his carpet. He turns, she peels the dripping jacket from her shoulders and the room is warm. He doesn't ask her how she takes it- she doesn't offer. Their memories are thin, spread over bitterness and loss and he'd rather not go there. Not tonight.

The television creaks open. He was watching _I love Lucy _before he left for the restaurant, catching Ricky's good morning kiss as he sped out the door. He turns it back on and she offers no objections, drawing her knees to her chin as she takes a corner of the couch.

Her corner.

They fall into place easily. His back against the cushions, her feet fall into his lap. His spine straightens and he presses straight shoulders more firmly into the cushions. Gives her room to move away from the touch but she leans in.

He watches from the corner of his eye as she tips back her head, eyes fluttering shut. Her hands are on her knees, pinching the dark fabric of her skirt and she isn't sleeping.

His palms cradle her calves.

Ethel and Fred are fighting. She slides closer. Her hands fall to her sides and Rory isn't crying anymore.

---

Her cheek is tucked into the crook of his neck when he wakes up the next morning. He suppresses the urge to jump- to grab her hand and kiss her.

He disentangles her from his frame and stands, legs wincing as he does so, strained from being curled beneath her all night. A thin grey sweater is spread over her shoulders. His, he supposes.

He bites his lip. Grins.

He hums his way to the kitchen. There will be coffee when she wakes up, he decides. Breakfast, too but he gathers his clothes over one arm, prepared for her to march out the door instead. Might as well clear the way to the exit, Logan might sue him if she trips.

The coffee tastes bitter, lonely and warm and her skin flushes full and pink before she wakes, legs stretching over the arm of the couch.

"Marty." It starts with a smile.

She catches sight of her purse on the floor, his sweatshirt in her lap and her mouth turns, eye brows pulling together.

"Hi," he tries, passing her a steaming cup and she stares at his hands.

"Marty." It's a sigh this time. Soft, apologetic and she better not follow it with _I like Logan_ this time.

He matches her frown with a soft grin and the words (I just wanted to make sure you were allright-)

-they catch in somewhere between his mouth, hers and there's a note under the door.

She catches it first, sharp blue eyes and she almost reaches for it.

Lucy's handwriting is spread over the page. He doesn't read it.

He's in love with her- Lucy. He is.

But Rory Gilmore's always been another story, the rules of his heart twisting for her all the time, even when she's buried in the back of his mind, half forgotten. Loving Rory Gilmore is a bit like riding a bicycle. You never forget.

She pulls at the ends of her sleeves- his sleeves and points to the paper in his hands- "you should read that" like it's a ringing phone and he's being rude.

He opens it, far too carelessly, fingers sliding over the goodbye like he's never read before and part of his mind thinks "how like Lucy" and Lucy's Marty is shaking his head, reaching for his miffed girlfriend's hand and kissing sorry into her palm.

Rory's Marty slips the paper into his pocket and turns his attention back to her, not a moment to lose. Eager to please. To charm.

He hovers between the two, as he's done for so many weeks now (Jekyll and _Hyde_) the paper folded in one hand and pressed to his side.

Her eyes are red. "I have to go."

She doesn't. Not really.

He doesn't say anything. She picks up her purse and picks up the coffee. _I have to go_.

But she's drinking it. Perched at the edge of his couch, car keys in one hand and his mug in the other.

He gives her an hour- she takes two. Settles back in and picks up his essays from the table. She doesn't think to ask permission as she leafs through them, lips pursed together. She's editor now. He heard.

Read every thing she'd ever written. Even when they were apart. He'd savor each nuance, each turn of phrase, sigh her name over the papers.

He's still good at this. At waiting.

She smiles when she finishes and hell, it's still heartening to see her nod. Her respect. It's something he hopes he never loses. A nod.

She approves.

---

Two hours and she's making coffee this time.

She's balancing a phone between her ear and shoulder, calling home. She doesn't mention Logan. "I'm staying with a friend." And "I'm coming home."

The silence is comfortable, like well worn shoes or an old blanket, still plush.

She takes his hand unexpectedly at the door, pressing thank you into his palm. Her fingers are small, still.

Rory leans in, stretching her toes. Her lips brush the curve of his cheek. "Good bye."

It's all she offers and it's familiar, aching familiar so he turns his head. Catches her lips, soft, gentle and he defies expectations.

He takes her arm, closing the air between them with a gasp in her mouth and his tongue slides over her lips, warm, welcoming. He isn't asking her to stay.

Just leaving the door open. She's welcome to his home.

She's welcome to him, if she so chooses.

He nips at her lips before pulling her way, letting her _know_.

_Good bye._

His fingers clench and release as he watches her walk away. Lucy's letter falls to the floor.


End file.
